"Nothing Will Come of Nothing" (Chapter One - A Light Drama)
1964-71 Chapter I Tony Garcia was once a karate expert, champion in San Francisco.
To be frank, I wasn't really all that impressed by the so called designation given him on behalf of the Gojo kai, Karate Dojo, but it meant a lot to Tony.
I doubt he cared for karate all that much, yet painfully he learned it, and skillfully to offset any emotions concerned with inferiority he might inhibit, he was a shy kind of person, he had felt on being treated as a Mexican at Berkley University.
By and large, there was a certain comfort in knowing as a second degree black belt, he could kick the daylights out of most anyone at the university, should they get too superior with him over his cultural roots, although a nice kind of lad, good natured, he never fought except at exhibitions, or at the dojo, and with other karate experts.
He was a top pupil of one of the greatest masters of karate from Japan.
He wasn't really very fast, but his style and techniques, and force, made him a deadly opponent.
All in all, this gave Garcia some kind of satisfaction, of some odd sort.
When I knew him, for I was studying karate at the same dojo as he, while with the rest of the karate black belts in San Francisco, he seemed to fade into the woodwork; no one in particular could point him out by name.
And during expositions, when I would be taking pictures of the sparing, he'd get mad if he saw one of himself receiving a kick or punch from his opponent.
And he held a suspicion that perhaps I had it in for him, and liked the other guy more because he was white, and his face would show it, as if an elephant had sat on it, but I'd simply say, "The Camera speaks for itself.
" Tony Garcia was a member of high society, through his father being one of he richest Mexican families in San Francisco, and through his mother being from one of the oldest.
He attended a prep school prior to going to Berkley.
And played some baseball, basketball and football, and no one seemed to inflict any kind of race consciousness on him.
That is to say, no one ever made him feel like a wetback, or Mexican that didn't belong where he was.
Upon graduation from college, he married, Colleen Macaulay, a blond haired Caucasian, he was married fifteen months, and had two children, a girl and a boy.
Spent most of the $150,000-dollars his family gave him, with it taking a trip for 90-days around the world.
Thereafter, he fell into a depression, with only $20,000-dollars left, the rest of the estate being in his mother's hands, after his father had died, the previous year.
Now his marriage became rather repellent, a life of domestic discontent, with a wife that wanted a rich husband, and so Tony at twenty-four years old, and his wife at twenty-two, were separated when Colleen found herself a new prosperous lover in Paris, a pianist twice her age.
In any case he had been thinking of leaving her out of boredom, but he felt, pity for her, had he left her, and had he left, he would have underprivileged her of himself and his means, and so she simply beat him too the punch.
For the most part, it was probably a most healthful departure needed by both individuals.
The divorce took place quickly after their separation, and Tony went to the East Coast, New York City, and mingled among the literary people of the city, and the artists thereof, with his $20,000-dollars left, and a $200 a month income his mother decided to give him, as a bonus to leave her alone.
He found a job at a newspaper, and became a regular for the weekly cultural section of the paper, an assistant editor and then the sole editor, and with the new found prestige of editing, and seeing his name in print, he started writing his own novel.
But the novel had to be written chapter by chapter on his own time, he could not afford to do it full time, as he would have liked to.
Plus, much of his free time was spent courting the lady who wished to bring the paper up, her father owning quite a lot of stock in the newspaper, and she was very demanding to say the least: with his free time, his work time, and his writing time.
Once this woman saw the impending downfall of the paper appearing, she grabbed $20,000-dollars from the paper, and Tony, and off they went to Germany, and spent a year in Frankfurt, and some time in Munich, and Heidelberg, where she had attended the university, for four years.
Then to Paris, all this time, she supported Tony in his writing of his novel.
At this time and juncture, Tony had three or four friends, me, Chick Evens, his girlfriend, Katharine Cooley, Hans Gunderson, from Darmstadt, Germany, who was now a part time professor at the University of Heidelberg, and was now in Paris, and Bernadette Vanderbilt, whom took a liking to Chick Evens, and whom Tony took a liking to her.
During the following summer months in 1970, Ms Cooley's attitude appeared to be changing toward Tony, perhaps because his was changing and taking a more interest in Bernadette, she wanted him to marry her; at this time, Tony's mother, up his allowance to $500 a month, making things more available for him.
He was moderately happy, but I suppose he preferred San Francisco or New York City to Paris, both familiar to him, but Katharine wanted Europe, if not Paris or Berlin, to be his place to discover his writing style, and complete his first novel.
And when he finished the novel that summer it was rather good, but it was poorly received by the public, he was an unknown name, it was called "With and Without.
" Thereafter, he simply went to visit me, often at the bookstore "Shakespeare And Company," to see how I was doing on my book, and to see if Bernadette Vanderbilt was there, and Hans Gunderson was staying at their apartment for a while Ms Cooley's friend, and Ezra Daniel, a poet from St.
Paul, Minnesota, my home town, who attended the University of Minnesota with me, he was working on a book of verse, living with me at the time, on the West Bank, in a small apartment, near Notre Dame Cathedral.
This was when Bernadette, Ezra and I decided to go to the Oktoberfest together, in Munich, and Tony wanted to come along, but not with Katharine Cooley.
And so there were four of us.
This was when Tony started playing bridge instead of reading at the bookstore with Bernadette, and started working out at the local gym, as if trying to impress and get to know Bernadette better.
I became aware of Tony's attitude towards Katharine one evening when he and Katharine and Bernadette and I were eating and drinking at the Lipp's, Cafe.
We had our dinner, coffee and wine, Tony mentioned to her he was going with us to the Oktoberfest, and Hans Gunderson could keep her company when he was gone.
He told her he needed to get away from everything familiar, and just be with friends.
She suggested he go to Heidelberg, or Augsburg, with Hans, he was going to do some discussion groups, and seminaries, and he could help, even get paid for his work, and that way all three of them could be together.
"I don't know anybody in any of those places," he said.
And I was going to tell Katharine she could come along, but Bernadette kicked me under the table, on purpose, before it came out of my mouth, she whispered, "I know what you're going to say, but don't she's been with him a while know she knows everything about him, she's a fine girl, let her go with Hans alone, maybe they'll fall in love, and he appreciates her, maybe this separation will be more useful than he plans.
" I was kicked the second time by Bernadette, to insure I understood what I was suppose to do-be quite, and mind my own business.
"Hell," I said, "why not go to Heidelberg for the illumination, it's a great event and has festive activities, you and Hans can go," I told Katharine.
Tony looked relieved.
But Bernadette kicked me again.
Then I said, "I think we got to go," to both Tony and Katharine.
"Yes," said Katharine.
"Oh, well," I remarked, "let's go Bernadette.
" "We'll be okay," said Tony, "go on now.
" "I'm not sure," said Katharine thinking about my suggestion, "but we will be fine though," she added.
"We'll see you tomorrow at the bookstore," I remarked in passing.
"Goodbye, good night, Chick," said Tony, and started to finish his wine, looking at Bernadette as she touched up her face in a mirror, unnoticing Tony's interest.
Chapter II
To be frank, I wasn't really all that impressed by the so called designation given him on behalf of the Gojo kai, Karate Dojo, but it meant a lot to Tony.
I doubt he cared for karate all that much, yet painfully he learned it, and skillfully to offset any emotions concerned with inferiority he might inhibit, he was a shy kind of person, he had felt on being treated as a Mexican at Berkley University.
By and large, there was a certain comfort in knowing as a second degree black belt, he could kick the daylights out of most anyone at the university, should they get too superior with him over his cultural roots, although a nice kind of lad, good natured, he never fought except at exhibitions, or at the dojo, and with other karate experts.
He was a top pupil of one of the greatest masters of karate from Japan.
He wasn't really very fast, but his style and techniques, and force, made him a deadly opponent.
All in all, this gave Garcia some kind of satisfaction, of some odd sort.
When I knew him, for I was studying karate at the same dojo as he, while with the rest of the karate black belts in San Francisco, he seemed to fade into the woodwork; no one in particular could point him out by name.
And during expositions, when I would be taking pictures of the sparing, he'd get mad if he saw one of himself receiving a kick or punch from his opponent.
And he held a suspicion that perhaps I had it in for him, and liked the other guy more because he was white, and his face would show it, as if an elephant had sat on it, but I'd simply say, "The Camera speaks for itself.
" Tony Garcia was a member of high society, through his father being one of he richest Mexican families in San Francisco, and through his mother being from one of the oldest.
He attended a prep school prior to going to Berkley.
And played some baseball, basketball and football, and no one seemed to inflict any kind of race consciousness on him.
That is to say, no one ever made him feel like a wetback, or Mexican that didn't belong where he was.
Upon graduation from college, he married, Colleen Macaulay, a blond haired Caucasian, he was married fifteen months, and had two children, a girl and a boy.
Spent most of the $150,000-dollars his family gave him, with it taking a trip for 90-days around the world.
Thereafter, he fell into a depression, with only $20,000-dollars left, the rest of the estate being in his mother's hands, after his father had died, the previous year.
Now his marriage became rather repellent, a life of domestic discontent, with a wife that wanted a rich husband, and so Tony at twenty-four years old, and his wife at twenty-two, were separated when Colleen found herself a new prosperous lover in Paris, a pianist twice her age.
In any case he had been thinking of leaving her out of boredom, but he felt, pity for her, had he left her, and had he left, he would have underprivileged her of himself and his means, and so she simply beat him too the punch.
For the most part, it was probably a most healthful departure needed by both individuals.
The divorce took place quickly after their separation, and Tony went to the East Coast, New York City, and mingled among the literary people of the city, and the artists thereof, with his $20,000-dollars left, and a $200 a month income his mother decided to give him, as a bonus to leave her alone.
He found a job at a newspaper, and became a regular for the weekly cultural section of the paper, an assistant editor and then the sole editor, and with the new found prestige of editing, and seeing his name in print, he started writing his own novel.
But the novel had to be written chapter by chapter on his own time, he could not afford to do it full time, as he would have liked to.
Plus, much of his free time was spent courting the lady who wished to bring the paper up, her father owning quite a lot of stock in the newspaper, and she was very demanding to say the least: with his free time, his work time, and his writing time.
Once this woman saw the impending downfall of the paper appearing, she grabbed $20,000-dollars from the paper, and Tony, and off they went to Germany, and spent a year in Frankfurt, and some time in Munich, and Heidelberg, where she had attended the university, for four years.
Then to Paris, all this time, she supported Tony in his writing of his novel.
At this time and juncture, Tony had three or four friends, me, Chick Evens, his girlfriend, Katharine Cooley, Hans Gunderson, from Darmstadt, Germany, who was now a part time professor at the University of Heidelberg, and was now in Paris, and Bernadette Vanderbilt, whom took a liking to Chick Evens, and whom Tony took a liking to her.
During the following summer months in 1970, Ms Cooley's attitude appeared to be changing toward Tony, perhaps because his was changing and taking a more interest in Bernadette, she wanted him to marry her; at this time, Tony's mother, up his allowance to $500 a month, making things more available for him.
He was moderately happy, but I suppose he preferred San Francisco or New York City to Paris, both familiar to him, but Katharine wanted Europe, if not Paris or Berlin, to be his place to discover his writing style, and complete his first novel.
And when he finished the novel that summer it was rather good, but it was poorly received by the public, he was an unknown name, it was called "With and Without.
" Thereafter, he simply went to visit me, often at the bookstore "Shakespeare And Company," to see how I was doing on my book, and to see if Bernadette Vanderbilt was there, and Hans Gunderson was staying at their apartment for a while Ms Cooley's friend, and Ezra Daniel, a poet from St.
Paul, Minnesota, my home town, who attended the University of Minnesota with me, he was working on a book of verse, living with me at the time, on the West Bank, in a small apartment, near Notre Dame Cathedral.
This was when Bernadette, Ezra and I decided to go to the Oktoberfest together, in Munich, and Tony wanted to come along, but not with Katharine Cooley.
And so there were four of us.
This was when Tony started playing bridge instead of reading at the bookstore with Bernadette, and started working out at the local gym, as if trying to impress and get to know Bernadette better.
I became aware of Tony's attitude towards Katharine one evening when he and Katharine and Bernadette and I were eating and drinking at the Lipp's, Cafe.
We had our dinner, coffee and wine, Tony mentioned to her he was going with us to the Oktoberfest, and Hans Gunderson could keep her company when he was gone.
He told her he needed to get away from everything familiar, and just be with friends.
She suggested he go to Heidelberg, or Augsburg, with Hans, he was going to do some discussion groups, and seminaries, and he could help, even get paid for his work, and that way all three of them could be together.
"I don't know anybody in any of those places," he said.
And I was going to tell Katharine she could come along, but Bernadette kicked me under the table, on purpose, before it came out of my mouth, she whispered, "I know what you're going to say, but don't she's been with him a while know she knows everything about him, she's a fine girl, let her go with Hans alone, maybe they'll fall in love, and he appreciates her, maybe this separation will be more useful than he plans.
" I was kicked the second time by Bernadette, to insure I understood what I was suppose to do-be quite, and mind my own business.
"Hell," I said, "why not go to Heidelberg for the illumination, it's a great event and has festive activities, you and Hans can go," I told Katharine.
Tony looked relieved.
But Bernadette kicked me again.
Then I said, "I think we got to go," to both Tony and Katharine.
"Yes," said Katharine.
"Oh, well," I remarked, "let's go Bernadette.
" "We'll be okay," said Tony, "go on now.
" "I'm not sure," said Katharine thinking about my suggestion, "but we will be fine though," she added.
"We'll see you tomorrow at the bookstore," I remarked in passing.
"Goodbye, good night, Chick," said Tony, and started to finish his wine, looking at Bernadette as she touched up her face in a mirror, unnoticing Tony's interest.
Chapter II